“To perceive is to suffer.” – Aristotle

I am an extremely empathetic person. I’m not saying this out of hubris; it is just in my nature. Where most people are sympathetic, I am empathetic. This is a wonderful quality to have, but it can also lead to a great teacher’s downfall. Every day, I interact with about 90 students, all of which have different personalities and come from different backgrounds. I have had straight-A students whose parents were CEOs, and I’ve had struggling students who came to me straight from jail. I’ve had students who can’t speak English and students missing limbs. I’ve taught students who will remain mirabile dictu in my stories for years to come, and students with whom I wish I never had to even meet yet alone teach. Each student impacts me in some way–good or bad.

I feel what they feel.

Empathy, the thing that makes good teacher’s great, is also the thing that slowly destroys us, like an ocean of emotion eroding the strength we once had. I have watched girls come to me, weepy-eyed, begging for the opportunity to get control of themselves in the hallway. I can’t help but offer counsel, feeling that same sense of extreme loneliness and pain that drips from their faces. I have sat with angry black boys as they express their frustration over the fact none of their teachers see them as anything but a thug. I want to hold these boys tight and, then, shout and yell with them. I feel their indignation. I have looked into the eyes of students as I handed them a failing grade, knowing that they studied and did the best they could. I sat in the desks with them, wondering how we failed to understand the material so drastically.

Many of you reading this are probably wondering why such a tremendous level of empathy could lead to a teacher’s downfall. How could such genuine care become something so negative?

I cannot separate myself from it.

I cannot suddenly stop being empathetic. I drag the baggage of 90 students through the parking lot to my car where I stuff it in my trunk to be unloaded when I get home. I lay awake and worry about certain students. I think about them when I see something on TV that reminds me of their problems. I stress about their failing grades and their lack of discipline. I shed tears and I think to myself:

I cannot do this anymore.

I cannot “leave it at the office”, and this creates burn out. Is it possible to maintain a sane level of empathy? Probably for some. For me, I don’t know. Other teachers tell me it gets easier, that you get used to the sorrowful vignettes and the melancholy defeats that they carry with them. You learn not so much to carry their load in its entirety, but to simply help them along the way. Maybe you take a pair of shoes out of their luggage, or you help them find an airline that will take 50 pound bags at no charge. You don’t do it for them; you simply help them figure out how to do it for themselves.

After all, good teachers don’t just give students the answers, they guide them to discovering them on their own.